Who Are You To Criticize Her?
by Broadwaypoetess
Summary: Mary Magdalene's childhood, reasons for prostitution. Violence, Abuse, Suicide. May be lowered with reviews. 8 now up. Some JesusJudas slash, but, it IS Jesus Christ Superstar Hideously old fic. May be deletedrevised.
1. How To Love Them?

_Disclaimer: This fic is supposed to explain why Mary Magdalene, in JCS, became a prostitute. So far, rated R for JCS, violence, abuse, and suicide. I don't own JCS, and I don't even own a copy of CATWOMAN #81, which I based her parents on. _

_~Broadwaypoetess_

_                                                            **Who Are You To Criticize Her?**_

_(Prologue)_

Mary Magdalene was sitting on the hard, faded, red chair of a train station. She was going away for a while. She couldn't really handle what happened in the past few days...

After Jesus died, she became close to Judas, and their love for each other was seen in the death of their true love. It was ironic that he arose shortly after. Everyone was confused. Judas left her and attempted suicide, only to be saved, yet again, by Jesus. The Son of God was around for less than a few months.

He was gone, and Mary never had the courage to say how she really felt. She tried hooking up with Judas again, but he was too distorted. Mary tried to find comfort in Simon Peter, then Simon Zealotes, but each was too keen on their mission to stay with her. When she later went to speak with Judas, and possibly love him again, he was hanging from the rack for the shower curtain, his wrists also sliced with an electronic razor. Water was still dripping from the showerhead, so he was definitely going to kill himself that night.

It wasn't fair, what life threw at her. It started with her parents, and ended with Jesus. It all began in Judea... 


	2. Yes, Really Changed

                                                            **_Yes, Really Changed_**

A young girl about the age of fourteen, with curly dark hair and earth-colored eyes sprinted jovially down the hall of the apartment complex. She was wearing a dance leotard with a see-through, light, rose skirt around her waist. She was swinging her duffel bag about carelessly. She felt so free.

At apartment 267 on the second floor, smells of chicken stir-fry filled the level. She eagerly opened the door.

"Hi Mom!"

A woman with dark brown skin, poofy black hair, and shining black eyes smiled at her.

"Hey, Mary-baby, how was dance?"

"Ok..." she muttered softly, with more to tell.

"Just 'ok'?"

"Yeah..."

She grinned at her daughter.

"Mary Magdalene, I don't believe you! Was there a boy that you met along the way...?"

Mary sighed. Her mother always assumed that there was a boy, and, she was usually right.

"What's his name, Mary?" her mother smiled softly and knowingly, "Was it the carpenter's son, from school?"

"Yes..." she whispered reluctantly.  

The carpenter's son was about her age, possibly older by a few months. He was kind and creative and would be attending the private Jewish high school, as Mary would. He had dirty blonde curly hair and blue eyes the color of the sky. He was a bit modest and had few friends. There wasn't much Mary knew, except he was hauntingly perfect.

Her mother's voice stirred her thoughts.

"Mary, go wake up your father. Tell him dinner's ready..."

A chill went down her spine. He wasn't just grumpy when he woke, he was angry. He wasn't always, but, just lately. He lost his job, again, and was drinking himself out of it, again.

Mary caused moved toward her father. His skin was sickly pale, and his hair that was once curly and dark, was matted. His closed brown eyes were usually red from his liquor.

"Dad... Dad..." she gently shook him, "Daddy... dinner's ready... C'mon... wait up... Da—!" 

He bolted upright, nearly knocking her over.

"WHAT THE HELL IS IT, YOU LITTLE SLUT?! WAKING ME UP!! YAHWEH!! I DON'T KNOW WHAT THE FUCK TO DO WITH YOU ANYMORE!!"

She gave a terrified squeak and ran into the kitchen, picking up her duffel bag where she left in on the counter, and ran into her room, slamming the door. She heard her mother, defending her.

"Joshua! Don't speak to her like that! She was waking you up for dinner—!"

"More of that shit? God, why the hell can't you make us a decent meal?"

"If you weren't drinking our income—" she muttered bitterly.

"What?! If you weren't spoiling that girl with the fancy school and the lessons—"

"It's out of my account, and the school doesn't charge as much. They know—"

"They know you're lazy! Fuck, Selene, I don't know why we keeping sending her there—!"

Mary opened the door, to see what was happening. Her father was swaying a bit and her mother was standing tall and tough like a redwood.

"I send her there so she doesn't become her father!"

He hit her. Her mother barely winced; she was tough and used to it.

"She looks nothing like me! You were sleeping around! Your family is nothing by Roman slave trash!"

"And yours is better?! They never write or speak to us, as if we don't exist!"

"They don't write to scum, Selene!" 

"And yet they speak among themselves?!"

His arm swung back, then forth, colliding with her jaw as he shouted "Shut up!"

Selene was sprawled on the floor, dazed, for a moment. Then she picked herself up. Mary ran out of her room, to her mother.

"Mary, go to Mrs. Garrison's house, stand there until I call you.." she said as she began to escort her to the door.

"Mom, I don't want to go to Mrs. Garrison's. I want to stay with you, or you to come..."

"If you won't go to Mrs. Garrison's, then stay outside, I'll come and get you," Selene said as she shoved her daughter out.

"But, mom...."

The door closed, and locked.

"Mom?"

Angry voices were heard.

"Mom?"

Mary walked down two flights of stairs and left the building.**__**


	3. Everything's Fine?

                                                                        **_Everything's Fine?_**

Mary was cold. It was one of those unusual cold summer nights. It was around 7:30 and about 50° F. And all she had on were dance shoes, tights, a leotard, and a pale skirt. She hugged herself for warmth as she walked around the county of Galilee, the village Nazareth. She forgot her parents and remembered that she would have to take the bus to Sepphoris. But then, she remembered. Her mother kept forgetting to call the bus company about where she was suppossed to be picked up. Mary assumed that she would have to walk...

She shivered as she walked by the seemingly dead fishing docks. Mary didn't like this. There was loud laughter up ahead. She spied some boys who appeared to be at least ten smoking marijuana. By the rips in their jeans they seemed to scream "fishermen's sons." There was another, about the same age who looked drunk as his lit up. His jeans were black, and his camouflage shirt was black and shades of dark gray. Punk. Zealot. 

They whistled and shouted at her as though they were in high school. Mary walked faster, away from them.

She soon found herself on poorly lit streets, and could faintly smell cigarettes and more marijuana.

There was loud laughter as some guy on standing in shadow was being beaten. The guys looked like they were going to be juniors or seniors in the upcoming high school year. The one being abused was shoved beneath the street lamp, and Mary could see lines in his face that weren't wrinkles and he had a bit of a receding hairline. No wonder they picked on him, he was a mess. Mary subconsciously walked closer to them, hugging the shadows. The boy was pushed off in the darkness again; he tried to stand up, but ended up skidding into Mary. She fell from the force and him on top of her. He cursed loudly as the glare from a flashlight shined on him.

"Ah, Judas, I see that this may be the only chance you'll be able to lay a girl and walk all over her..." one of them sneered.

"Fuck off!" the boy shouted. He then looked at Mary and helped her up. Her right leg and left elbow was skinned and there were small cuts on her hands.

"Sorry," Judas muttered, "Let me help.." He hesitantly placed an arm around her shoulder and she inhaled through her teeth loudly. Bruise.

Of course, this provoked loud laughter and more taunting aimed at Judas. There were some loud mutterings of "Go to Hell" as Judas escorted her down alleyways.

"Where are we going?" Mary whispered to him.

"The carpenter's."

"Who were the boys beating you?"

Judas was silent for a moment.

"My friends."

"Some friends," Mary mumbled.

The next street had a bit more light and the shout of Judas's "friends" died away. She spied a boy whittling a small piece of wood. His hands had some small scars and calluses. She couldn't see his face, but saw the sawdust and wood shavings on his ripped baggy jeans. He was the carpenter's son.

Judas left Mary and had a short whispered conversation with the boy. The boy nodded and Judas left him. The carpenter's son went into one of the buildings that she now recognized as _Joseph's Woodshop_. There were dolls, doll furniture, and a small table and chair in the window display. Judas began to walk back down the alley; Mary heard his footsteps and turned to him.

"Wait! Where are you going?" she called to him.

"Back. I'll be fine. You just wait here for him to return..." he continued walking, but slower.

Mary hesitated for a moment, "What's your name?"

He stopped and turned around.

"Judas Iscariot."

"Mary Magdalene."

She looked to see what he thought of her (as if she could tell by the reaction to her name), and Judas continued with his walk, not caring what her name was. He soon disappeared, and Mary could hear faint shouts of laughter from his "friends."

The boy reappeared carrying a bottle of hydrogen peroxide and a small first-aid kit. Mary could see and recognize him now. He was the carpenter's son she gossiped about with her mother. His blonde hair looked golden in the lamplight, like heaven, but, with the dust and bit of wood shavings in his hair, he looked like another kid. At the moment the color of his eyes equaled the shade of denim on the jeans and jean jacket. His white tank top was about a size too big and rather loose. He gestured for her to sit on the sidewalk. 

She sat calmly on her sidewalk and her began to gently clean her cuts. It barely stung. She didn't understand why it didn't hurt as much as when she did it herself. He began to bandage them when he spoke.

"What school will you be going to?"

"What makes you think I'm going to school?" She was a bit edgy, she didn't know how she was going home.

"Where do you live?" he tried to ask again.

"Why? Do you want to prove your life is better?"

He paused in his work and his questions to look into her eyes. She averted her gaze and edged away, knowing that he was somehow trying to find a secret.

"The Jewish private school. Solomon Ave." She didn't know why she said it, she somehow felt like she was obligated to say it.

"What's your name?" He began to work again.

"Mary."

"That's cool. My mom's name is Mary." he responded, trying again to make light conversation. 

"Magdalene. Mary Magdalene."

He grinned at her and imitated Sean Connery.

"Christ. Jesus Christ."

She giggled and he began to laugh lightly. When it died he spoke rather cheerfully to her.

"There. You're fixed. Solomon Ave's gonna be a long walk, but, hey, you'll make it." he shrugged, and Mary could she that he was trying to be a bit too casual.

"Yeah. So... see you."

"Yeah, see you at school, Mary."

Mary walked back down the alley, and realized that she wasn't cold anymore.


	4. You'll be SO sorry when I've gone!

                                                            **_You'll be SO sorry when I've gone!_**  

Mary was fuming. Her body was hot with rage, and if she was thinking of it at the time, her hand could've melted the knob as she sung the door on apartment 267 open.

"I'M HOME!!" she sang out angrily, "I JUST HAD THE WORST FUCKING DAY!! DOES ANYONE GIVE A SHIT?? NO? WELL NO ONE CARED BEFORE!!"

It was around late March and throughout the school year rumors formed about her and in a second, she lost many of her friends and became an outcast. Boys were spy her alone in the hall, corner her, press her against the lockers and kiss, sometimes even drag her into the bathrooms. She started off telling the teachers, but few helped. Almost all were biased, although they denied such accusations. She stopped doing her homework as a protest, and the harassment was almost every other class period. Her parents were phoned, by the violence was going to extremes. Her father was becoming more violent, and there was a bit of a brawl almost every morning. Mary's uniforms were ripped, and then poorly mended each morning.

The assistance was given, almost always, by Jesus. He would see her, her arms and face cut and bloody. She would sit in Jesus's small, private bathroom with band aids and rubbing alcohol, as Jesus would be in the larger one, bleaching the stains and sewing the tears. Since Mary was constantly at Jesus's house, the rumors began here that she was sleazy, rowdy, and no good, hanging out in the scummy parts of Nazareth and Sepphoris.

The odd and scary thing, for her, this past month, was her mother. Every day, with bruises on her face, and the usual busted lip, her mother would whisper to Mary..

~

"Mary Magdalene! Listen to me!" Selene would hiss, "If I go first, get out of here. Take all the money you can, leave him, let him stay here! Go anywhere! Just, get out!

~

Mary didn't get it, exactly. She didn't want to think of her mother gone, and now, at the moment, her mind was rather far away from her mother as she shouted through the house. She stomped her feet, venting. After a moment, she decided to cool down. 

She entered the bathroom and splashed some water on her face. It was freezing and little came out, they owed money, paying off bills with credit card after credit card, digging into savings accounts, reaping the rent money. In whatever was left in the broken shards of mirror, she spied an odd red color, she dismissed the thought and rationalized that her head hurt too much from the mornings beating.

She left without looking at anything in the bathroom, and realized that the room was too quiet. 

"Mom?" she whispered. Regularly, this past month, she would hear _something_. Her parents fighting, her mother in the bedroom, cleaning cuts, her mother making whatever food, or her mother stealing from a large jug of coins in the closet (her father's jug).

But, today, silence.

"Mom?" she asked the silence. Mary began to walk into the living room. Her father was drunk, and the snoring loud. She hadn't recognized it when she first walked in.

"Dad?" she asked the drunk, "Where's Mom?" Snore. Her eyes fell upon the liquor bottle, the smallest rays of light reflecting, all pointing in one direction. The bathroom.

"Mom?" she asked louder, getting scared. She cautiously approached the bathroom. "Mom?" She slowly opened the door. "Mom?" There was redness to the bathtub. "Mom?" Her fingers touched the curtain. She felt a sense of forbidding. In a sudden impulse, she closed her eyes, drew back the curtain..

Mary slowly opened her eyes. Her mother, ghostly pale for her average complexion, head lolled back, hair wet, lay dead in the red waters of the tub, now tomb. Mary's hand rose to her lips stifling a cry of shock.

On the edge of the tub, rested a pink disposable razor, the same razor that Mary mused over a few nights before as she shaved. Mary thought then, _Why not? If I did no one would notice..._ Unfortunately, Selene took the opportunity, seriously, first. 

She leaned in and stared at the razor. It looked like it had been wiped clean a few times. Mary knew the razor was as dull as her father. Beneath the blades were the tiniest flakes of pinkish skin. It was clear what happened and how exactly it happened. Mary drew her eyes away from the blade.

"I'm sorry, Mommy." she whispered, feeling lost and lonely like a child. Her hand shook as touched her mother's cold cheek. She leaned in close to her mother's forehead and kissed it. 

"I love you, Mommy."

She left the bathroom, composed herself a tad, and picked up the phone.

"Hello? This is Mary Magdalene of 146 Solomon Ave, David Apartments, second floor, room 267. My mom... my mom..." she began to choke.

"Yes, what happened to her?" the voice inquired calmly.

"She's dead. I think, I think she killed herself.." the phone was shaking wildly in her hand.

"Ok, go outside, tie something bright onto a mailbox or a street lamp. Stand outside. Wave your arm so we'll notice you, ok?"

"Ok... I'll... I'll get something, hold on.."

"I'm not leaving you." the voice said, in it's unnatural calmness.

She ran into her mother's room, scanned the closets, and found a bright orange sundress. Mary almost moved to the phone, but realized, that was her mother's favorite dress. Mary was holding in her hand, her mother's favorite dress that she would now use as a banner. She paused all action, staring at the dress.

"Miss? Are you there?"

Mary then ran back to the phone.

"Yeah," she sobbed, "I have... orange dress, I'll be... outside... with it... you'll know.."

"Stay calm, we're here for you."

She ran out of the apartment, and waited. They came. And, months later, she still was with her father.


	5. To Despise Her

(If anyone cares, as I was thinking of a name for this chapter, I think I know the name of Selina Kyle's mother. Marie would you believe? Yeah, so I think I did I good job in naming Mary's mother Selene as a tribute to Catwoman. God, that's ironic.. Anyway, on with this!)

_                                                                        **To Despise Her**_

It was about two years after Selene's suicide, and Mary was sitting at a small table at lunch. She was offered bit of food here and there and acted as though she was only bored, not hungry as she ate. Truth was, she was only eating at school and whenever she stopped over to see Jesus. There was no food for her at home, only a leather whip.

She was tired, and mainly annoyed at her teachers, her home, and life for her. She kept silent for a few good minutes before someone mentioned it.

"So, anything pissin' you off today?" John. Good old normal honest John. John I'm-the-exact-opposite-of-my-cousin-and-I-believe-I'm-better-looking John.

"Just shit, y'know?" She looked at the other two at the table, Jesus and Judas. Jesus looked concerned and Judas was on edge. Judas was always on edge. He thought that if he sat here, he would lose his friends, the same friends who taunted him and abused him.

"Mary," Jesus began softly, "if you wish to discuss, you may—"

"Fuck, man, she said it was just average shit, so just leave it at average shit! Fuck, I'm glad we're not closer related, y'know?" John looked at Judas and Mary for a bit of a response.

"Y'know what I'm saying, right?"

Judas looked away at the floor and sighed a bit, Mary gave John a stern look and spoke.

"I can defend myself, bastard, you don't have to get up anyone's ass. Especially not Jesus's."

"Oh sorry," he began sarcastically, "I had no _dream_ of upsetting the Queen of Nazareth and her King!"

"Fuck off, Jonathan!" Judas muttered.

"Hell, I didn't invite you, fucker. Go get beat up by your buddies."

Here, Judas made a move as if to swing at him, Jesus quickly blocked it.

"Stop it. NOW." he said sternly.

There was a silence that lasted until the bell rang for class. Judas left to join his "buddies." John picked up his binder and muttered something like "math" and "the converted pagan bitch." Jesus sighed and looked at Mary. Religion.

"Well, at least that's a class I pass.." Mary said reluctantly to him.

"Yeah, but it would be nice if more understood. Most don't."

"We're just the religious one's, I guess. That's it! Our careers are chosen!"

"They are?" Jesus asked playfully.

"Yes! You become High Priest, and I, angel, like I always have been." she said grinning.

"You're not as angelic as you think.." Jesus teased as they walked slowly behind the rest.

"We'll, someone has to be the sinful angel."

"Yeah.." Jesus muttered, grinning.

Religion was a better class for one main reason: the educator, Mrs. Elijah. She was in her late sixties and was extremely patient. One of the few teachers who considered Mary to be an average, normal student, unlike the opinion of the majority of staff. 

Mary and Jesus entered the small classroom, taking their seats in the back, off to the side as usual, to avoid taunting (Mary). Jesus opened his backpack, removed his notebook, religious workbook, and copy of the Torah. He spread the items around his desk neatly. Mary, on the other hand, went into the back of the room, picked up a used and beat workbook, and an extra copy of the Torah from a stuffed blue shelf. She then sat down at her desk as the rest of the class entered talking loudly and short Mrs. Elijah bringing up the rear.

As the class settled down Mrs. Elijah began to review facts for a mid term exam. Jesus tiredly, almost bored, raised his hand for every question, whereas Mary seldom did, not wanting to bring attention to herself. The rest of the class occasionally answered, or made a sound until..

"Who can tell me one of David's seven wives?" Mrs. Elijah asked.

There were light snickers and some soft mutters of "Magdalene." Mary began to sink into her chair. She hated it when boys tried to be funny, few possessed the talent, and in her point of view, this one surely didn't. She, was also touchy on this subject, she interpreted it as Bathsheba being abused, much like herself. One time she asked Jesus about this, he shrugged, not wanting to answer, and said that leaders think they can do whatever they wish, but, God would eventually punish them in their sick pride.

Mary mused lightly over the thoughts and ignored the questions and suppressed giggles until the next inquiry came..

"Who was Samson's mistress?"

Mary's stomach churned with fret and hate as she heard the louder sniggers and comments of "Mary Magdalene," and the ever-wonderful "Replace Samson with Jesus, remember, Mary's middle name is Delilah." (Her middle name wasn't Delilah, or Anne, or the ever-terrible Sue. It was Ramera, but those who spoke the pagan Spanish didn't need to know.)

Mrs. Elijah, a bit oblivious to the joke calmly asked the class to settle down, which they did. Mary, beginning to finally break at the remarks, calmly asked to go to the bathroom. Mrs. Elijah nodded and let her go. Jesus, looked upon Mary with concern, but Mary refused to look back and let him read her.

~~~~

After Mary had been gone a few seconds, Jesus raised his hand and asked to address the class. Mrs. Elijah agreed, she loved talking openly with her students; she loved being a support and a grandmother to them.

"I want... to discuss..." he turned around to she if the class was listening and found that they were, "I want to discuss Mary. Why do you to treat her so poorly?" his question was in a calm tone, but most of the students squirmed a bit. Mrs. Elijah looked about the class, silent and a bit unnerving. A girl with the dark Roman features raised her hand.

"Yes, Roberta?"

"Well," the student began nervously, "she asks for it..." she mumbled.

"How so?" Jesus asked his a cold coolness. 

Roberta continued, "The way her clothes are, how she acts, it's like a bit of a... a bit of a..." she became unsure of how to voice her thought, but then, turned to a cruel biblical source, "A bit of a Delilah."

As a majority of the class started to snicker, Mrs. Elijah silenced them with a loud, "Quiet!"

Jesus looked about the quieting classroom and began to speak, in occasional white lies, "She has a rough family life. Her father is a bit of a..." he paused to find a term the students could relate to "... jerk. She can't afford a lot of new uniforms, that's why they're patched." He paused again, this time for effect. Then, anger came to him, an anger that was buried in his soul, and he fought his insides to remain calm. "The student body hasn't forgiving." he muttered, and some of the class who still thought of listening and considering strained every vessel in their ear to hear him. "They boys are cruel... treat her like..." So many words entered his head, words that John used on a daily basis. "Bad. Way too bad. She shouldn't face the abuse, but she does, and telling some people hasn't worked. She's given up. She reports nothing."

His ragged breathing began to echo around the room. He was fighting to say it all, say how much better Mary deserved it all, how much he cared, how much he was beginning to silently **_hate_** Mary's father. Jesus struggled again and voices entered his head, saying that nothing could be done no matter how hard he fought; nothing could save her from her family.

Students would come up with some suggestions to be nicer to Mary without her being suspicious. Jesus's thoughts, however, were far away from the class. Something terrible had happened to Mary, he could feel it, and moments later, Judas stuck his head in the classroom.

"Sorry, Mrs. Elijah, I don't wish to interrupt..."

"Yes, Mr. Iscariot?" she asked, holding up her hand to the class to quiet them.

"I don't believe, Mrs. Elijah, that Mary will return to class, or the next class she has..." Judas answered, titling his head so he could catch Jesus's gaze.

"What has delayed Miss Magdalene?" she asked further, with overwhelming concern.

"A bit ill, I saw her outside the bathroom and took her to the nurse."

_A lie_, Jesus thought. He knew. Judas's stare practically said one thing, and only Jesus could figure out what happened. The gaze clearly said one word: _Rape._

_(Ramera, I believe is the Spanish word for either whore or prostitute. I enjoyed my small "Mary Sue" pun. Oh yes, I bet you want to know how sexy Judas is involved, and what the heck is the rape thing exactly? Ooo.. next chapter!)_


	6. Leave Her! Leave Her! She's with me now!

(Alright, this'll be why it's R. Sexual abuse, and a nice Judas*Mary)

                                                            **_Leave Her! Leave Her! She's with me now!_**

Mary had entered the girls' bathroom with no trouble. She was waiting for one of the stalls' occupants to leave. When the girl did, Mary stood by the "feminine hygiene product" dispenser.

"Hey, uh, do you have some change? ... Y'know... I have..."

"Oh yeah, sure! No problem." the girl believed Mary, gave her some change for at least two of whatever and left.

Mary grinned inwardly at the departing girl. She had lied. She bought a pad and a tampon and crammed them her pocket. Since her father obviously wasn't buying food for her, why would he give her money for things such as this? So, Mary would politely ask girls for change, and save up what she had in various shoeboxes and in her book bag until it was time. She believed she was being rather ingenious, but then remembered why she had asked to come here.

The taunting was normal, but there were other things. Boys hurting her. Boys trying to touch her in the hall. It hadn't been _bad_. Bad for her standards. She was too used to it. But, the thing that scared her was that, the boys weren't usually sophomores. Freshmen, juniors, and, almost always, the seniors. It was always the same senior group, and she knew she remembered them from before school, but she couldn't really focus on anything past her mother's death.

She stayed in the bathroom for a while, then, finally decided to leave and go back to Religion.

~~~~

Judas could hear some deep, scheming laughter in the hall. He was in the library, study hall. Maximus, Janus, Quintilliano, and Xaccheo. His "friends." The popular, almost feared Roman converts. Whatever was going to happen, Judas knew it wasn't going to be good. He moved his chair and leaned over so he could see through the small window on the side of the doorway. He spied a figure leave the girls' bathroom down the hall, but soon after, Maximus and his gang appeared. Judas tried to lean over more to see, but one of the lights by the predators and victim flickered.

"Fucking cheap school," Judas whispered. He waited a moment to pack up his books in his bag; he wouldn't have time to pack them away later.

~~~~

Hands were around her mouth and waist. She couldn't move, except squirm. She couldn't scream, just mumble. She tried to catch someone's gaze other than her predators. No one! She was frantic and frightened. A dark hand went over her eyes. She was now blind. 

The laughter was disgusting and soft as thunder; she could feel herself being led into a smoke-scented bathroom. Her back was pressed against a cold, sticky urinal. Icy hands and sweaty hands began to touch her. She began to kick blindly and fiercely, but felt and blow in the gut and arms like a lions holding her legs steady, then pulling them apart. 

Mary knew what they were going to do and tried to scream again. There was more laughter at the muffled cry and she could feel her blouse becoming loose, her skirt was being tugged from different directions and she kept squirming to try to avoid them. She was slapped and punched in the face and she could feel teeth becoming loose. Her sharp incisors began to bite into their fingers and she could faintly taste their blood. Why did no-one care about her?

She could hear the door open and feared another member of the gang. She thought she was going to die in the boys' bathroom.

~~~~

He didn't like what he saw. Scratch that, he hated what he saw. Hands were over her, mouths were on her, she was practically topless, her brasserie was ripped, and her skirt was torn in multiple places. Judas's sight was a distorted red, he charged at the gang like a bull. 

Maximus, Janus, and Xaccheo were struggling with Judas on the title floor. Judas kicked and punched, threw, and was thrown against the walls and sinks. Where was Quintilliano?  
  
~~~~

After Judas's first attack, Mary ran into the nearest stall and decided to barricade herself in. Sadly, the door had no lock. She forced herself to do a bit of a split, one foot on the toilet's edge, the other holding the door shut. She wavered a bit; her body had long forgotten her dance positions. A thought came to her. _This could be like a dance of will _as she buttoned her blouse, a few falling to the ground. She thought of picking them up when – 

_BAMN!!!_

Quintilliano was pounding himself against the stall, pulling at the door to attack. Mary wasn't ready to be hurt again, not ever. She scaled the tops of the stall walls. Now or never. 

She could hear him prepare for another run. The foot on the toilet seat began to steady. She heard the _scruff _of Quintilliano charging. Her other foot left the door, and he went flying. She leapt, her fingers clawing onto the top of the stall, her legs kicking him swiftly in the back and with a sickening _thudang_ his head hit the toilet edge.

She left the stall and saw Judas attacking the others. Mary hesitated, not knowing whether to fight as well or leave. She stood like a statue, the realization of what happened to her dawned. Hot tears began to fill her eyes. 

~~~~

Judas heard the thud of Quintilliano as his head kissed toilet. He was being pushed under, and then forced himself to the top. He could see her, scared, and feeling lost. "Run," he mouthed as he went under. He began to attack with more anger until he saw her. "Run." he said. After he was shoved he began to thrash violently. "Run!" he barked. He heard soft, quick footsteps, she was safe.

He succeed in throwing Xaccheo against a sink, he was finally out. Janus and Maximus saw this, and were filled with hate. Janus tackled Judas and Maximus went to the door. Judas stuffed Janus into a quick headlock and tossed him like a doll again the walls. _Thud_. Maximus.

~~~~

Maximus was getting scared. His men were out of commission, Mary was gone. He was nearly out when Judas grabbed his wrist and swung him back into the bathroom. Maximus abandoned most of his fear and had his fist make contact with Judas nose. Blood quickly began to flow. Judas snorted and threw him against one and the urinals and began to punch him in the stomach until Maximus could barely breathe.

Judas went to one of the sinks and was careful to tread on Xaccheo. He began to spit out blood and one or two baby teeth that didn't fall out yet. He gargled and spit until he was certain the blood was nearly gone. Judas poked his nose. It stung and he decided that it was broken. Bruises and scrapes were all over his arms, his shirt was torn, but he thanked God that his jacket was fine. He adjusted it to cover up most of his bruises and decided to leave.

~~~~ 

Mary had reentered the girls' bathroom and felt sick to her stomach. She vomited a few times in the sink. She figured she lost about three teeth, but she would have gotten braces, so she would've had to lose those teeth anyway. But, she probably would never be able to afford braces and would have to walk about like a beggar for the rest of her life. But then, she thought, she may not even live that long.

She heard Judas knock on the bathroom door. She exited. He lead her to the nurse.

"What should I say?"

"Say you were sick."

"And my teeth?"  
"A fight, then."

"Who did I fight with?"

"A zealot."

"Judas, why would I fight a zealot?"

"Say you didn't know who hit you then."

"And you?"

Judas paused for a moment, but continued to walk.

"A fight. That's reasonable."

She looked up at him.

"Should I tell anyone what happened?"

"No, Mary, they could do worse. They could kill."

"I'm scared."

"Avoid school for a few days."

He slipped a hand on her shoulder. She shivered and tried to slink away. His grasp was like a vice. She began to mumble incoherently and he realized his action and let go. They walked farther down and his arm was about her shoulder again. She hissed for him to stop but he seemed not to hear, and his arm slipped around her waist.

"Stop it." she whispered, trembling. He pushed her closer to him, his hand caressing her hip. She slapped him. His face was rather pink and he walked behind her to the nurse. 

After he had given the nurse their excuses, he sat beside Mary at one of the cots. His arms went around her, and she began to fend him off, she struck him and he didn't stop. She went to strike his face, but he caught her wrist. His gaze was off, as if thinking of other things and not acknowledging what he was doing. He released her.

Mar moved to another cot, staring at him. He leaned back, and quickly began to blink. His eyes widened in shock. He removed himself from the bed and made a move towards Mary as if to apologize. She backed away.

"I'll go tell Mrs. Elijah. But... then I'll be back."

He left and Mary began to shake. What was wrong with him?


	7. Let Her Be Now

                                                                        **_Let Her Be Now_**

Jesus thought Mary was acting rather distant. He didn't like this. They were always close, what was hurting her? He avoided any physical contact with her, knowing a bit about the abuse, but, even when he would hand her a book or a pen, she would snatch it quickly and slide her chair a desk away. He wasn't a leper, and doubted that he looked like one, why would she recoil? Jesus decided to question Judas.

It was late in the morning on the weekend. A cool Saturday morning.

"Judas? Are you near?" Jesus called out in the street. He heard and shuffling of footsteps and the squeak of leather. His tanned face and sunken eyes came into view.

"Yes." There was softness, a softness that Judas did not share with John or any previous "friends."

Jesus hesitated. He doubted that his friend would reveal much, but he needed to know.

"Please tell me what is wrong with Mary."

Judas winced as if stung with a whip.

"They were just... just touchin' her, kissin' her... y'know?" His speech was off, he was shaking.

"No, I don't know, and I also want Mary to tell me in when the time is right. It will help her." he paused. "Judas, I care for her. I need to know, my friend, what happened after? I would assume she would be closer to you, seeing as you possibly saved her from death..."

"I just helped her... y'know?" Judas kept averting Jesus's eyes.

"I'm sorry, but I don't know. Please, tell me."

There was a silence that could have been cut with a knife. Judas was beginning to sweat and look around the street. Possibly to escape the interrogation, or see if he could bit hit by a car. Jesus was staring at him, catching his eyes to see glimpses of memories and thoughts. Jesus saw.

"You tried to..." Jesus stopped; searching for a slang, " You tried to..." he paused in a bit of concealed repulsion and anger, "... to put the moves on her," he spit the last words out.

Judas looked at Jesus, a tad questionably and coldly.

"I suppose you want to as well. You're not as holy as you think." he sneered.

"That's not the point. I don't touch her like that. Especially after a crime with a high caliber of –"

"Stop trying to be so fucking smart!" Judas shouted at him. "Fuck, you're not high class, stop thinking your better than everyone! Dammit! You act so superior!" Judas vented.

Jesus replied in a coolness that was too cold for his usual personality.

"When? I don't wear the brand names. I don't smoke the cigarettes or marijuana. I don't drink the beer. I don't hurt the girls and pretend I love them. If acting superior is showing humanity and compassion, then that is what I am. But, if it's drugs, sex, alcohol... I'm not superior. I am lowly."

"Just..." Judas began, "Just... Just lose the fucking attitude. I know... I know your feelings aren't as innocent as you claim. You're human, just like me. You love her, you want her, but you lie to yourself. You fucking lie! You deny yourself of emotion! You... you bastard!"

Jesus was shocked. He was certain he never felt like that around Mary. Judas couldn't be serious. He had to be stoned or drunk, but Jesus examined Judas closer. There were no evident yellow stains on his teeth, no redness, his eyes were watering though. The air around him had no scents of alcohol or drugs, just the sour of morning breath. How could Judas think of such a thing?   

"I know why you say these things Judas.." Jesus continued as Judas hissed the words _fuck_ and _off_. "You.. You feel like this about her. You deny. Not me."

Judas turned a bit and walked to down the street, not looking at him, but shouting.

"Don't get into my affairs of how I feel about people! I'm not the icon!"

Jesus stared at his back, torn between love and hate. He could have sworn he heard the dry grunt of a sob.

_(Short chapter. Next one will be longer, I swear!)_


	8. Frightenly High

                                                                        **_Frightenly High _**

Mary was beginning to relax as she observed John cursing at the Pac-Man arcade game. She had a better outlook on life now that she was staying closer to Jesus. She had been avoiding Judas totally, and he was avoiding everyone else.

"Fucking piece of shit! Damn it! You were supposed to eat the cherries – not the fucking blob!" John shouted as he kicked the game a shook the joystick, nearly breaking it.

"Dammit, John, if you keep making a scene they'll throw ya outta this one!" Mary laughed.

"Fuck off!"

After some more vehement words at the game from John, Mary left to find Jesus. She was in the mood to talk to him. She walked gracefully through the streets, counting the seconds until she was there. She then heard some loud coughing behind her and saw smoke. Bad smoke. Worse than a cigarette. She walked closer to the scent. Marijuana. She was about to turn around when she recognized the profile.

"John!" she shrieked, "What the hell are you doing?!"

"Mary, calm down, please."

"Fuck no!"

"It's not as bad...."

"What's not as bad?! You have a mom who's going to kick your ass!" Mary cried. _Why would he do this?_ she thought.

"You're making a big deal outta nothin', Maggie." a gruff voice said.

"What did you call me?!" No one ever called her Maggie except Jesus, if anyone else said it, she took it as an insult if anyone else called her that.

"You've forgotten your Savior?"

"My Savior? I HAVE NONE!! Who ARE you?!" she shouted.

Judas Iscariot stepped forward. Mary stifled a cry of shock. and John ran away to destroy all evidence of what he had been caught doing.

"Don't touch me!" she cried, backing away.

"Do you think I'm going to?! I'm a fucking mess! Do you think I would've started smoking over anyone else... besides you...?"

Mary shook her head violently. She didn't want to  hear his excuses. She hated him! She hated him to trying to hurt her! She hated him for being friends with Jesus! She hated him for no apparent reason other than he was Judas Iscariot.

"You made your life like this, you bastard!"

"Mary, you don't understand..." his voice became unnaturally soft.

"You don't understand the sleepless nights. I think about you, I dream about you."

"Keep dreaming, then! I'll never be with you after what you did to me!"

"Mary, I was a mistake. I never met to – "

"Of course you did! You're just like them! Leave me alone, Judas!"

Mary stared at him coldly and turned on her heel to leave. Judas growled at her.

"It's him, isn't it? You'd rather have him than me, isn't that right?"

She began to walk away.

"What if it is?! It's not like you have to compete! He'd never her me!"

"He'd never treat you like you want him to! I know you women! You all want you're boyfriend to plant his seed into you! He'll never do that, and you despair about it every night! Every time you're with him you want him to treat you like that. You want to be his love, his toy, not his friend!"

She reeled about to spit on him.

"Not I! If you knew about women, you'd know how they think! You know NOTHING, Judas! It could be YOU who feels this way! No girl wants to be treated like that! If she did, she might as well become a whore!"

She stormed away from him, back to the arcade.

Judas whispered after her, "You shouldn't assume how I feel. And, besides, prostitution seems in you career choice. You're not as angelic as you think, Mary-Maggie."

He spat on the ground and walked off.


End file.
